


vestiges

by buffys



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28312287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffys/pseuds/buffys
Summary: This time last year, he would've been dropped off at Demetri's house straight after school so they could tinker with their pet robot projects in preparation for FIRST.
Relationships: Demetri & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz
Kudos: 17





	vestiges

This time last year, he would've been dropped off at Demetri's house straight after school so they could tinker with their pet robot projects in preparation for FIRST.

His mom would've licked the tip of her thumb to wipe away stray crumbs at the corner of his mouth from some snack he'd eaten at lunch hours ago -- and had unintentionally carried with him for the remainder of the day -- and then she would've told him to "be good" even though that was all he ever was.

And he would've slid out of her light green Toyota Camry with a hunch, his backpack tossed over one shoulder, before he self-consciously looped both arms through the straps, so it didn't look like he was trying to be something he wasn't, even when no one was around to notice.

And he would've ambled up the walkway and knocked three times on the door in the same spot he always did (right in the center, in-between two strips of stained glass windows).

And Demetri's dad would've opened the door with his gold-framed glasses hanging lopsided on his face, a giant grin the first welcome, followed by a second one. A verbal one.

And they would've made small talk. Demetri's dad would've made small talk, while Eli twitched around, left eye fluttering open-and-closed a flicker faster than the right eye, trying to disguise his comfort. Only serving to emphasize it.

And he would've looked past his shoulder to Demetri's room, which was always left open at least a foot so his mom could intermittently check in. (As if he was doing anything worth checking in on.)

And Eli would've nipped Demetri's dad's little soliloquy in the bud (he was always talking about his job at NASA. Who cares?) and stuttered out a thank you that fell on mostly deaf ears and walked into Demetri's room, which would've been just about the first time he really breathed since he stepped out of his mom's light green Toyota Camry.

And Demetri would've said something unfunny and Eli would've pretended to find his unfunny joke funny so he wouldn't feel bad.

And they would've gotten to work. Sitting at Demetri's desk with his giant fish tank gurgling in the background. Eli, trying not to make eye contact with the bristlenose pleco as it sucked the algae off the corners of the tank, and Demetri, rambling on about some girl he thought was hot and so out of his league that they were hardly in the same genus.

And they would've stayed in their little bubble for hours, hands sweating around screwdrivers, dropping bits and pieces of metal. Up until Eli's mom texted him, telling him to come out.

And Eli would've looked at Demetri, the corner of his face, where the lines began to blur, where he ended and the rest of his surroundings began, and he would've told him he had to leave.

And Demetri would've looked at him, disappointed and not bothering to mask it, and told him "Alright. See ya later, Goose." Because Demetri was always Maverick.

And Eli would've left, not knowing why he was so bothered by that.

Why it wasn't enough.

•••

Today, he didn't go to Demetri's house. Today he stayed at home and watched TV alone, flicked through cable channels, settled on Comedy Central, watched _Archer_ with bored, glazed over eyes, and tried to understand why he didn't feel any different. Why a year had passed and he'd changed but he didn't feel any different at all.

He was still getting used to taking up space. It's what he settled on. He was getting used to taking up space, being a person, being forcibly torn away from his siamese twin (inch by inch), and things were supposed to be hard. That's what life was. Life was hard. And it was supposed to be. Because then it meant when good things did happen, he really deserved them. Because it meant he'd worked for them. Fought for them. (Inch by inch).

It wasn't enough.

He thought about practice. At five a.m. Out in Coyote Creek. Everyone separated into teams. Hawk wearing a red headband, lips twitching up, trying to tamp down the excitement and anxiety and some third emotion he couldn't pin down while everyone else tried to act like they weren't just as excited. Just as scared.

He'd nodded at Tory. She'd nodded back, belated, eyes jittering across everyone. Landing on Bert for some reason. Eyebrows knitting together. Smoothing out when Kreese wandered into the clearing with his hands under his armpits, shark eyes tracking their every movement. Lips twitching up in amusement.

Hawk tried not to look for the space where Miguel used to stand. Tried to act like his absence wasn't felt like some phantom limb.

He'd made eye contact with Keene instead. Whose girly locks had been oh so tragically shorn during his transient stay at Super Weenie Hut Jr's. Keene'd glared at him, nostrils flared, eyes cold and dead. Issuing some kind of challenge.

He'd snorted. Turned away. Because Robby Keene wasn't worth the effort of a blinking contest. Because Hawk had assumed he'd win the war even if Keene won the battle.

He hadn't counted on the flying kick to the face. Or Stingray's stupid fucking camouflage routine (again).

He came in third place (again).

It wasn't enough.

Kreese hadn't even looked at him. Hawk hadn't registered on his radar at all. Like they weren't even in the same genus. Like he was so low to him -- to all of them -- that he might as well not be there at all. Because coming in third was the same as coming in last.

Kreese had told him to "do better next time". Hawk had told him to "fuck off" and then he'd walked the whole way home.

It'd started to rain about an hour in. He'd come home three hours later with muddy shoes filled with gritty little pebbles and bits of grass. His hair flattened to his skull, for once, outlining the shape of it.

He'd taken a shower, dried his hair, then spiked it again. Stared at his reflection in the mirror. At the dark circles under his eyes. At his bitten down nails.At the prominent cleft lip scar. Vestiges of Eli. A person he couldn't scrape away no matter how much he wanted to. How much he tried.

And he'd thought about FIRST and how Demetri probably wasn't going to participate either. Probably hadn't looked at a robot in months.

And he'd wandered into his room.

And he'd opened his closet door.

And he'd peered into the darkness, down at a box labeled "Robotix", that he'd labeled thinking he was being tongue-in-cheek. And that he now looked at and cringed at and glared at like it was responsible for how he kept coming in at third place. In everything it seemed.

And he thought about the robots he used to pick apart and dissemble and the same thought pricked at his mind, sharp, like the tips of the steel tweezers he'd used to perforate the rubber surface of stray wires when he got bored and Demetri wouldn't stop talking:

_when's it going to be enough?_


End file.
